


Smack My Bitch Up

by TheGuitarPerson



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Kayfabe Compliant, Lust Sublimated Into Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGuitarPerson/pseuds/TheGuitarPerson
Summary: “And confessions of love have always seemed out of place when you’re gasping for air, when you’re begging for pain, when you’re missing something, unable to change the channel.”― Kris Kidd, Down for WhateverKevin watches Sami. Sami watches Kevin. Both remember the pain.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts).



> Inspired by mithen's stories. Go read them if you still haven't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some references to ROH Final Battle 2010. Blood and cursing to be had.

“ _Strowman’s unstoppable! He’s broken Zayn in half!”_

Kevin grits his teeth as the fabric of his black slacks bunches in his fingers.

“Get the fuck up.” He mutters, unable to control his own mouth. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sweat and spit sticking to his flesh. The shame he feels is atrocious as is the simultaneous surge of joy while he watches Sami on the monitor scamper away from Braun’s grasp.

He feels his lips curl into a sneer as the camera focuses on the monstrous man’s scowling face. No-one could break Sami. Not some lumbering thug, not even --

More shame, now mixed with an odd sort of pride. He feels bile rising from his stomach, burning in his throat. He remembers the taste of blood oh so well, metallic and rich, him licking it off his own skin, a depraved act for all to see.

Kevin watches the monster struggle to catch Sami, who’s using an odd-looking but seemingly quite effective wrestling style, keeping close to the ground and slipping in and out of Strowman’s grasp.

“Fucking moron. He’s too fast.”

Sami glows bright from the monitor in his hotel room, eyes blazing as he charges into the monster with a kick straight to the face.

Kevin actually hears himself; the sound he emits is awful to his own ears, longing and desperate, pride and disgust swirling in his stomach as Sami slays the beast.

 “ _Oh my god! I’ve never seen anything like this in my life, ladies and gentlemen!”_

“Fuck off.” Kevin snarls as he turns off the television. Fucking Michael Cole, acting surprised. How in the fuck has he “never seen anything like that”? Sami’s been in Raw for the better part of two years, how hasn’t that idiot seen him do –

Well, it’s because Cole was an idiot, for one. But Graves – that inked-up moron agreeing with him?

The match wasn’t even that _good!_ He’s seen Sami do much, _much_ better things –

 _“_ Fuck _.”_ Kevin swallows and grabs the phone by the lampstand; he had to eat – he needed something –

“ _Yes? How may I help you?”_

“Yeah, how fast can you get a large pizza up here? And some fried chicken?”

“ _About ten to fifteen minutes sir. Would you like something to drink as well?”_

“…what’s the strongest drink you got?”


	2. Chapter 2

Sami feels his throat seize up as he looks at the tweet on his phone.

_Kevin Owens to Brock Lesnar: I don’t give a shit about your kids!_

He knows what he’s going to watch, knows what it’ll do to him, yet his fingers tap on the linked video anyway. He’s stopped watching Monday Night Raw ever since making the jump to Smackdown – between the travel time and now, Daniel and Shane’s number 1 contender’s tournament for the IC title, there just wasn’t enough time.

Yes, because Sami, frankly, had better things to do than to keep himself posted about what happens in the Kevin Owens Show.

 _”Do you know, Mr. Owens, what you’ve done?”_ Paul Heyman barks from the screen, emanating arrogance. _“My client, Brock Lesnar, is a very busy man. He makes time only for the most elite of competitors.”_

“Don’t do it,” Sami whispers, heat rising in his chest as he watches Kevin smirk and visibly steel himself for what was undoubtedly some choice words. He was always good at that; Kevin had a way with words the same way he had a way with violence.

_“Oh, elite, eh? Maybe I should’ve called ahead – I heard you need your special foot cream before you can compete.”_

Sami feels something clench in his stomach as the crowd roars, a single entity savoring the promise of violence. Lesnar’s face is completely impassive, but there’s a smirk forming there, a vow of endless pain to come. Heyman screeches, raging impotently, his voice distorting into an incomprehensible buzz in Sami’s ears.

He’s not worried about Kevin – _why_ should he? Kevin was stronger, faster and more durable than he looked. If Brock thought –

No, that wasn’t right. Why _should_ he worry? Whatever was going to happen, Kevin deserved it, he _deserved_ it and _more_ , if Sami could get his hands on Kevin right now, he’d –

He shook his head, pausing the video to take a deep breath. He snatches the hat off his crown, realizing he’s sweating profusely.

What _would_ he do? Sami’s no stranger to the violence that followed Kevin, that followed _them,_ everywhere, every time.

 _Why_ should he worry? Because…because Kevin was his friend. Because Sami loved his friends.

He loved Kevin. Right?

But this…this wasn’t _love_ – this was sick, he was being _sick_ and he’s afraid because Kevin wasn’t his friend anymore ( _right?),_ hasn’t been for a long time, but all he can think about now is Kevin and the rush he feels whenever they share their proclivities. He remembers Kevin breathing down his neck, promises of pain echoing in his ears, him answering back – pain wasn’t just a language between them, it was a bond.

_“…and moreover, it’s his daughter’s birthday today, Mr. Owens. That is time, precious time, that you cannot give back to Brock Lesnar or his children!”_

“ _All due respect, Bork? I don’t give a shit about your kids.”_

Sami feels his breath catch in his throat as Kevin drops his Universal title, charging at Lesnar – there’s but one serene second before Lesnar responds, one hand behind Kevin’s neck, Kevin responding in kind as they rain their fists on one another.

Kevin is bleeding from the mouth now, visibly winded. Brock’s face hasn’t changed, save for the terrifying beginning of a smile forming on his lips.

Sami lets out a strangled noise, as he feels his nails digging into his palms. He shuts his phone, almost throws it against a wall. He wants to find to someone, _anyone_ , so he could – he _wants_ to – but Kevin’s not here, not anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

This is sick, Sami thinks. He’s _sick_.

And he’s not sure if getting better is even possible anymore.

The more horrifying realization, the one he keeps even from himself as he makes his way to the ring, is that he doesn’t want to.

Maybe he never did.


End file.
